[With the contact from her legs, she can feel the way he shudders, a tremble that runs though him like electricity. Certainly she can feel the way the encouragement makes him redouble his efforts - the way his tongue presses in, and in, and in, steady and rhythmic now, as though trying to earn another of those groans]
[One of his hands comes up to her thigh, restless, palm rubbing greedy over the soft skin. When she says she'd wanted to make him squirm longer, he whines, softly - shifts, and squirms again - can't quite seem to help the way his free hand trails to the front of his skirt to try and smooth it down one last time]
[Unfortunately he is too far away for a proper punishment--she barely notices at first, eyes fluttering shut and teeth dug into her lower lip as she arches into his tongue. Even when she does finally catch onto the reason for the movement and what exactly that rustle actually is, she seems more interested than anything, and the groans that follow are strained this time, shaky as the hand over his scalp.]
J-Jacob--
[A beat to swallow, though her mouth falls back open soon enough, panting breaths voiced and urgent]
You been so good-- Touch--touch yourself. I wanna hear you--wanna feel you...
[He outright groans, at that - and she does feel it, a low vibration that rushes through her where his tongue still works against her inner walls]
[She can see it, too, when he moves to comply - when his hand presses down more solidly against the top of the skirt, instead of that single surreptitious stroke - when his back arches and he can't help but rock forward into his own hand. He whimpers as he begins to rub, urgent little circles with his palm through the fabric]
[Through it all, he doesn't stop what he's doing - pointing his tongue so that he can lap as deep as he's able, free hand tracing shaky trails over her inner thigh]
[She curses breathlessly as he does--at the rumble of his groan and the prodding of his tongue at her entrance that jolts down to her toes. She clutches at him with hands and lips and thighs, clingy and trembling in a way that usually means she's close]
Yes, yes, don't stop-- Want you to feel good...w-want you to come with me...
[He whines, the sound muffled and borderline desperate - presses harder into his own hand, hips working against the pressure. He doesn't seem far from finishing, himself; certainly she can feel the way he's trembling]
[He works at her with an enthusiasm that borders on urgency, as though pushing her to the finish line is an imperative he can't refuse]
[She certainly can feel how he quakes, and it spurs her on to tremble along with him, voice rising to a nigh-constant drone--to scrabble at his back in desperate encouragement of the movements of his mouth and his hands and hell whatever it takes to get over the finish line]
Nn--Jacob, you-- I-I'm gonna--
[Before she can finish the warning, her hips judder helplessly forward--her whole body clenches tight around him with a hoarse cry]
[He makes a low sound against her - doesn't slow the motion of his tongue, deep and firm and intent, pressing onward as though he means to send her over one finish line and straight past the next]
[Then comes another sound, soft and wavering and desperate, and his rhythm stutters and falters somewhat. There against the floor of the changing room, his toes curl; his back arches, and the motion of his hand becomes quicker more focused]
[And just like that, he's coming, too, shaking hard as the coil of pleasure that's been winding higher inside him all this time finally draws tight enough to snap]
[perhaps even with eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back she can feel the sudden break in tension as he finally goes over the edge; perhaps that's what pushes her higher--longer--a weightless eternity with nothing except the warm points where they touch. She grips even more tightly, as if she could take him along even here]
[Perhaps she can - perhaps she is - because he shakes and shivers against her for long, endless moments, adrift in a sea of sensation]
[Even now, though, his focus is on her as much as it is him - reading her cues, and the tension in her body, and the grips of her hands, so that he knows when to begin to ease back, the insistent lapping slowing to something more gentle as he works her through it]
[His own hand has slowed to a barely-there rubbing, working through the last few tremors]
[It's a good while before she comes back to herself--feels like it, anyway--and she sinks back into the chair with a shuddery sigh, breaths panted and limbs like rubber.
Not too long after she thinks to pull at his shoulders, urging him back to her lap again--or just to have him closer in general]
[He goes where he's urged - though this time, instead of lying across her lap he comes up to sit in it, sprawled against her, chin resting on her shoulder]
Holy shit.
[He sounds breathless and more than a little awed]
[He makes a muffled noise that is probably agreement, and then just kind of melts against her. He does not seem like he's in a hurry to move for a minute,]
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[One of his hands comes up to her thigh, restless, palm rubbing greedy over the soft skin. When she says she'd wanted to make him squirm longer, he whines, softly - shifts, and squirms again - can't quite seem to help the way his free hand trails to the front of his skirt to try and smooth it down one last time]
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J-Jacob--
[A beat to swallow, though her mouth falls back open soon enough, panting breaths voiced and urgent]
You been so good-- Touch--touch yourself. I wanna hear you--wanna feel you...
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[She can see it, too, when he moves to comply - when his hand presses down more solidly against the top of the skirt, instead of that single surreptitious stroke - when his back arches and he can't help but rock forward into his own hand. He whimpers as he begins to rub, urgent little circles with his palm through the fabric]
[Through it all, he doesn't stop what he's doing - pointing his tongue so that he can lap as deep as he's able, free hand tracing shaky trails over her inner thigh]
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Yes, yes, don't stop-- Want you to feel good...w-want you to come with me...
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[He works at her with an enthusiasm that borders on urgency, as though pushing her to the finish line is an imperative he can't refuse]
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Nn--Jacob, you-- I-I'm gonna--
[Before she can finish the warning, her hips judder helplessly forward--her whole body clenches tight around him with a hoarse cry]
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[Then comes another sound, soft and wavering and desperate, and his rhythm stutters and falters somewhat. There against the floor of the changing room, his toes curl; his back arches, and the motion of his hand becomes quicker more focused]
[And just like that, he's coming, too, shaking hard as the coil of pleasure that's been winding higher inside him all this time finally draws tight enough to snap]
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[Even now, though, his focus is on her as much as it is him - reading her cues, and the tension in her body, and the grips of her hands, so that he knows when to begin to ease back, the insistent lapping slowing to something more gentle as he works her through it]
[His own hand has slowed to a barely-there rubbing, working through the last few tremors]
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Not too long after she thinks to pull at his shoulders, urging him back to her lap again--or just to have him closer in general]
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Holy shit.
[He sounds breathless and more than a little awed]
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Fuck.
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[At some point she has enough energy to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and does so]
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...Was that okay? Are you okay?
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...you kidding? That was pretty amazing.
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Wasn't sure if it was too much. Sometimes I get carried away.
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[Possibly he is flushing again; certainly his neck goes pinker]
...it for sure wasn't too much.
I kinda like you getting carried away.
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...You sure?
[Trails aimless lines down his back]
You didn't mind having to wait or nothing...?
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...kinda liked that, too.
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[He can feel her flush, but she only leans in, perhaps taking advantage of how he can't see her expression]
...Wouldn't mind doing more, uh. Stuff like that. Sometime. If you wanted.
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...I want.
Like - whenever.
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[But her voice is warm--a little shy, almost--and she hugs him closer, nuzzling at the nape of his neck]
What kinda things don't you like? There's gotta be something that's off limits.
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[He shivers again - nuzzles back, soft, like a cat leaning into a petting hand]
[But it's a genuine question, and he's quiet for a minute or two, thinking it over. Then finally, slowly:]
I guess, like. If we ever try out... handcuffs or whatever. I'd wanna take it slow?
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